


A lead role in a cage

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson's pov, F/M, Gen, Grant Ward makes a choice, Minor Character Death, Redemption, Second Chances, Speculation, but i bet you won't cry about that guy, canon compliant vioelnce, it doesn't mean a free pass, what i would like to see at the season's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's a specialist. Cold blood is basic requirement"</p><p>Except, what Phil can see in Ward's eyes while the gun is trained at Fitz is anything but cold. </p><p>(Or in other words, Ward has to make a choice. THE choice.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lead role in a cage

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by tons of discussion about Ward, possibilities for his redemption, the way it could happen, and how much of a factor his attachment to the team could be. (I say, it makes all the difference. It should, at least.) And yes, there is a direct Captain America 2 parallel in this. It just felt right.

_He's a specialist. Cold blood is basic requirement._

Phil stands frozen in spot, calculating his options. His gun lays useless next to his foot. So does May's. By the time either of them could reach for their weapons, Ward would be able to shoot. Jemma and Skye are unarmed, which leaves Fitz in the literal and proverbial middle. As he stares at the barrel of a gun pointed at him, he's barely breathing. He looks scared and shocked, but he's standing firmly and holding his own gun, but his hand is shaking. Of course he stands no chance against a trained specialist. 

“Either your little hacker hands us the hard drive and encrypts it,” Garrett says from behind Ward's back, “or my boy here shoots you all. One by one.”

Skye looks at him. May doesn't move. Phil doesn't either, and the thing is, this doesn't feel real. He can't even recognize Ward's face, except something else is wrong. Cold blood is basic requirement, yes, and he shouldn't be able to read him. He can, though. The iron grip on his gun is too forceful, fingers of his left arm digging into the right one too tightly. His mouth twitches and his eyes look anything but calm or cold. No, that's not right, that's not what Garrett trained you to do, Phil thinks. You're about to break. Phil knows a bomb when he sees one. 

Whatever he says next has to be the right – and just when he is about to, it's Fitz who speaks. He drops his gun. 

“You know what,” he's talking to Ward and his voice audibly breaks.“I'm not going to fight you.”

Phil holds his breath. He can practically feel May tensing. Nobody moves – nobody of the team, not Ward save for a sharp breath and a swallow he cannot mask. 

And then Garrett starts laughing. An ugly, cruel, devastating laugh. 

“How sweet,” Garrett says. “But that won't help you, son.”

“Don't call me that,” Fitz says and looks back at Ward. “You don't have to do this.”

“Oh, he has to,” Garrett counters. “I told him.”

Ward's arm stars to shake. He manages to stop it, but he looks like a man suffering excruciating pain. Phil can feel sweat sliding down his back, he can hear everyone in the room breathing. One wrong blink and the balance could tip the wrong way. 

“No,” Fitz's voice may be shaky, and he may be on the verge of tears, but he keeps looking at Ward like this is his lab and he's not going to give up. “You're not like this. You're a good guy,” Ward swallows again and his gaze seems glazed, almost watery. “I've seen it.”

“You've seen wrong,” it's the first thing Ward says, just barely, like every word weighs a ton. 

“No,” Fitz shakes his head. “I don't believe that. Whatever he did to you _had_ to be horrible -”

“Fitz is right,” Skye says then. 

“I know I am,” Fitz says, and Phil doesn't know how he manages to sound warm, how they both do it. 

“Was it like this, Grant? What your older brother made you do?” Skye asks. Her voice is careful, heavy with compassion and understanding, and Phil can see the moment when something inside Ward breaks. “It was, wasn't it? You didn't want to hurt him and you had to. You had no choice -”

Behind Ward, Garrett's expression turns cold. 

“- you have a choice now.” 

“He knows better than that,” Garrett says.

“That's because you took all of his choices,” Skye counters. Phil feels like the invisible timer could go off any time, and the situation could explode – it will, he is certain of that – he just doesn't know what the effect will be. 

“That's bullshit sweetheart,” Garret says. 

“No it's not,” Fitzs counters. “You're telling him to shoot us. You ordered Skye shot just to watch us come up with the medicine. And made him watch. You – you put him between the hammer and a hard place and made him watch -” 

Garrett starts laughing again, but it's a false, ugly laugh. “Come on, son,” he says to Ward and Phil cringes. “World needs less pathetic wusses.”

Ward's face is ashen, a ghost of strength Phil is used to seeing in him. He can feel their chances turning, he can sense the shift while things echo in his head. _I was not put on this plane so you could make me a better person._

It's Skye who makes the difference. 

“No, Grant,” Skye says. “You've got a choice.” 

“I don't have choices,” Ward replies, but instead of cold it sounds pleading. 

“Yes, you do,” Phil says and for a briefest moment Ward looks at him. 

“You're not alone, Ward,” Fitz says.

There was a moment like this one before. One, when Clint Barton brought in a young woman instead of killing her. Phil still remembers the look on her face. 

“I've had enough of this circus,” Garrett says. Before Phil can move a shot rings out and he can see Skye and Jemma falling to the ground. It happens fast, the moment when Garrett turns to him and May knocks him down. The bullet misses, hissing above his head. Phil can see Fitz standing there frozen, he can see Garrett turning to take aim – and then another shot rings. 

It's from Ward's gun. 

Garrett falls, red spilling on his chest, gun still in hand. In front of him Ward stands petrified. 

“You little piece of scum,” says Garrett through blood, raises the gun, and Phil realizes that Ward isn't going to move. That he will just stand there and let Garrett shoot him - but then another shot echoes like a shock and sends Garrett back to the ground. This time he doesn't speak any more. 

Only then Phil realizes that someone – Skye – was screaming _no_ when Garrett held up his gun. Ward starts to shake, really shake, his back and his shoulders, and he's not letting go of his weapon. He turns away from Garrett and a distorted, almost inhuman sound leaves his chest when he hides his face in the crook of his elbow. The next one sounds more like a scream and he falls to his knees, curls in on himself and starts to cry. Without a sound.

For a moment neither of them moves. 

Phil can see Ward's hand still holding a gun, and he doesn't want anyone else to die today. He pulls himself up, unsure how wise it is to come near to Ward when he's like this. But the next scream seems to bring them all to motion. Fitz nears Ward carefully and Jemma sits up, but it's Skye who crawls over there first. 

Phil follows. 

“Give me the gun, Grant,” she says, holding onto her shoulder and only then Phil realizes she's been shot. “Grant.” 

He doesn't move, save his shoulders that keep shaking. Skye doesn't move either, kneeling on the ground next to him as if she's looking for clues, looking for a rope to pull him out. 

Or maybe, offering him a hand. It's what Skye does. 

“Grant,” she says quietly. The fabric of her jacket has turned dark with blood. 

“Skye,” Jemma says. “I should take a look at that.” 

That's what makes Ward react. He looks up and looks over Skye with unmasked fear. “No,” Skye says, determinant. “It's nothing.”

“You were shot,” Jemma says. 

“It grazed me,” Skye says, all her concern focused on Ward. The way her tone sounds leaves no more room for discussion and Phil knows Skye won't leave this place without Ward. He looks at Jemma and nods, hoping that his message is clear. “I know the difference,” Skye adds. There's a pause. “Grant,” she says, and Phil realizes she's been the only one on the team who was using his name; not only now but since the beginning. “We can't stay here.”

Ward shakes his head, his breathing still heavy and his eyes focused onto nothingness. 

“I can't leave,” he says. 

“Yes, Grant. Yes you can,” she says. “Give me the gun.”

“Ward,” Fitz speaks quietly. “I mean what I said. All that I said.”

“You're not alone, Grant,” Skye adds. “Please give me the gun.” 

Ward's hand calms when he finally lets go of the weapon. It makes a dull sound when he puts it down onto the floor, and once his hand is free, Skye reaches for it. When Ward takes it, Phil lets go of a breath that seems to weigh a ton. When Ward looks up, he looks at Phil, and Phil knows what he is wordlessly asking. And despite everything, Phil knows that leaning him hanging right now would be worse than killing him. 

“You're not alone,” Phil says. 

*

“I'm not religious,” May's voice is even, but when Phil looks at her, it's clear that she's still shaken up. Her eyes rest on the screen for awhile before she continues her thought. She leans comfortably against the holo desk. Phil turns to look at the video feed as well – it shows the lab, Jemma fussing over Skye in eerie silence. Ward is sitting on a gurney next to Skye with his eyes cast down. Fitz is sitting opposite of them. Next to Phil, May takes a deep breath. “I do believe that you exist for a reason.”

“Do I?” Phil asks. He might guess what's about to follow. 

“We brought enemies to our ranks before,” May's tone switches to practical. 

“Yes, someone brought Zola among our ranks. Look where that got us.”

“Reformed enemies,” May clarifies. She's not going to give up until she proves her point, but in all honesty, maybe it's not necessary. Phil is a man who keeps his promises – just because the world has turned upside down, he isn't going to change. “Remember, rescued dogs are the most loyal ones.”

“Are you trying to explain what Garrett did, or are you giving me a suggestion?”

She shrugs. “It was a poetic observation. A bad one, I admit.”

“He's not a dog. I'm not gonna treat him like one.”

“No, but he's not a grown man either. He needs a father.”

“I'm not his father, Melinda.” 

She smiles, slowly. “No, you're not,” May says. On the screen Skye doesn't seem to notice whatever Jemma is doing to her shoulder. All of her concern is directed at Ward. “You aren't Barton's father either, and yet he turned out okay,” she looks at Phil in a way nobody else looks at him. It's not only trust, or even love that she carries in her eyes. It's faith. 

“I don't know if I can save him.” 

May nods slowly. “I think all you have to do is convince him that he can save himself.” 

Phil smiles at that and then turns, heading for the lab. He reaches it quickly and when he enters he's met with silence. It's only eyes that greet him. 

He stands in front of Ward and takes in the younger man's appearance. He's like a shadow of himself, of whatever self he carried around the Bus for months and Phil wonders if any part of that man exists in real Grant Ward. He wonders too if Ward himself knows who that man is. 

“I will not let you off the hook,” he says, and wonders if he perhaps sounds too stern, but when Ward looks at him, Phil thinks he can see tiniest glimmer of hope. What sinner needs is a chance for atonement. Only then forgiveness can become an option. “You will have to earn back your place, and I don't think it's gonna be easy.”

Ward nods. He carries that same patient and quiet expression, only now the sadness is there too, unfiltered. “I will do whatever you say, sir.” 

“No,” Phil says, aware that Jemma and Fitz and Skye are looking at him now. “You will decide what you want to do. I will not tell you who to be, Grant. I can show you -” he pauses, considering his next words carefully. “I can show you that you can live a different life than one you lived before. But I will not order you who you should be. This time you get to choose yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Ward whispers. 

Phil nods and only when Ward looks down again, Phil meets Skye's eyes. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. Whatever grace she possesses when it comes to reaching out to someone, he was temporarily blessed with the same gift. 

Maybe it's not a gift at all. Maybe it happens when someone matters. Phil looks at Jemma and Fitz. 

“Are you two okay?” Phil asks. 

“Not really, sir,” Jemma admits. 

“But we will be,” Fitz adds. Phil nods. It's far from ideal, but broken is better than completely torn apart. That, and he'd seen broken people heal before. He nods again and readies himself to leave and for a moment he's not sure where to go. He doesn't want to close the door of his office, and he realizes he doesn't want to be alone. The lab door opens right then and May enters. 

Phil takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. It feels like convincing his own skin to give him some slack. He sits on a gurney next to Fitz and pats the younger man on the shoulder. Being broken is not nearly as bad as being all alone. He looks at Ward and knows that he is right. 

Thankfully, none of them are alone. 

“You're right, Fitz,” Phil says. “We will be.”


End file.
